


Apologies and Thanks

by Nonymos



Category: The Avengers (Marvel Movies), The Avengers (Marvel) - All Media Types, The Avengers - Ambiguous Fandom
Genre: Bruce Banner Needs a Hug, Let's play 'who's the most damaged character', Loki Does What He Wants, M/M, Protective Clint Barton, Rape Aftermath, Rape Recovery, Sequel to His True Colors, but what does he want ?, he might just get one this time
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-08-22
Updated: 2013-08-25
Packaged: 2017-12-24 07:57:16
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 8,805
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/937500
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Nonymos/pseuds/Nonymos
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>In the wake of the Avengers' greatest mistake, the team is slowly learning again to function as one. Loki has vanished, leaving Bruce Banner toiling to shake off clinging ghosts, and Clint struggling to find his balance with the damaged doctor. And then a field mission goes shockingly south.</p><p>They really didn't need another layer of trauma. Or... maybe they did. </p><p>This work is a sequel to <a href="789339/">His True Colors</a>.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

 

 

 

 

 

The ground rushed at him like a missile and smacked the air out of his body.

Loki let it all burst out, seeing stars as pain racked through him in a powerful blast, going up his spine and reverberating in his bones. He waited for the shockwave to wash past, then jumped on his feet and held his spear high, breathless, leaving his body to deal with what lingered of his brutal fall. Soon the last bursts of pain would die, like embers growing cold. He knew the feeling. He had gotten used to will his body to move despite its pleas for just a little more time, for mercy – Loki was relentless, even with himself, especially with himself. No time to lose taking care of a heap of flesh. As soon as his mind was back in control, everything else just had to follow.

This time it did not.

He swayed on his feet and put a knee down. He clenched his jaw so hard he nearly cracked his own teeth, willing his muscles to heave him back up, to _fight,_ but he had pushed himself too far. Despite his efforts, tremors were born deep inside him and followed his veins and nerves, expanding with the motion, until he was shaking like a rattle.

The demi-god closed his eyes. He was _not_ on Fury's steel table, where he had no choice but to stay still until the torture ended. He was free and must make use of it. What was pain ? As long as nothing restricted him, as long as he could hypothetically fight, he _would,_ suffering and exhaustion and weariness notwithstanding.

He got up by the sheer force of his will and stabbed his enemy just as it hurled itself at him, plunged his spear deep and twisted, felt the flesh giving, the heart bursting like an overripe fruit, and blood gushed on them both, and he freed his blade and took a few steps back before he collapsed on the cement, panting like he only remembered now how to breathe.

SHIELD would be here soon.

He closed his eyes. He had been sold to them as a slave ; he had not feared them then, and would not recoil any more now. It was not their cells he dreaded. But he simply did not want them to _know_ he was still on Earth. He was done, he was utterly _done_ with the lot of them. Perhaps one day he would face them again, and that day he would fight like he had just fought, without _thinking_ for once, confronted only to the inevitability of violence and not to the intricate web of his own ploys.

For now he must leave.

The energy he needed to leap out of existence was simply not there, but he could still put a glamor on himself, could still heave himself up and walk away unnoticed, hidden in plain sight. He had no other choice anyway. His body would just have to endure a little more exertion. Gripping his spear tightly, he used it to raise himself on his feet. It was excruciating, like rolling a boulder up a steeply slope, inch by inch, his flesh like stone on his bones.

For a second, he stood straight amidst black butterflies and flares of light.

Then it snapped – and everything that was Loki Laufeyson was blown away like a candle.

 

*

 

 _“Okay, doc, let's go”_ Steve said.

Bruce nodded and readjusted his earpiece before coming out of the aircraft. The violent wind ruffled his hair and scattered the ash around him as he climbed down the ladder.

“Anything on Geiger ?” he asked.

 _“Nothing for now”_ Tony answered.

The doctor looked up at the red-and-gold armor, flying in circles high against the grey clouds.

_“The whole zone looks like it's been nuked though.”_

For a second, Bruce thought he could feel them, waves of intangible poison vibrating through the air. But it was just in his head ; Tony insisted he picked up nothing, and the doctor did not have the power to feel radiation anyway. Out of precaution though, the humans of the team were to stay put in the Quinjets until further notice ; even Iron Man must stay in the troposphere until the captors were positive he could come down without any damage. Bruce, Steve and Thor were left walking the field, trying to understand what had happened in the ruins of what had once been a small town in Kansas.

It was weird to be on a mission without actually turning into the Hulk. Bruce was not sure what he was supposed to look for. The charred wrecks looked all the same to him, mixing with the thousand other devastated landscapes he had walked in the wake of his own deeds.

 _You didn't do this,_ he reminded himself. _You're here to make it better._

It was a discrepancy he had trouble swallowing, but he walked down the street all the same, catching glimpses of Steve's bright colors in rear mirrors sometimes. The super-soldier was walking away from him, investigating the other side of the street. The doctor closed his eyes and let the green simmer just below the surface in case something jumped out of the nearby houses to lash at him or at the much more vulnerable Captain America, or even at Thor, exploring the other half of the city but not far enough the Hulk couldn't reach him if needed.

His worry reminded him of how frail he must look himself. Behind him, the Quinjet waited, ready to take off at the slightest threat. Bruce thought he could feel Clint's gaze on him, and this time, he knew it wasn't just his imagination. He felt him edgy, nervous, but unable to utter any logical objections to Bruce going on the field.

There was still so many things hanging unspoken between them all. What Bruce had dreaded the most was Tony's discovery of his relationship with Clint. The billionaire still felt like thin glass to him sometimes, wracked by a guilt he desperately tried to ward off. But the team had accepted it without a word, actually. Respecting Bruce's choice, trusting him to make his own decisions in the awkward process of finding his bearings among them.

Bruce was sure the team had not gone so easy on Clint, though. He could only imagine the endless sessions of shovel talk since nothing of it had transpired to him ; the archer himself had mentioned none of it, laughing it off every time Bruce tried to ask him about it. So here they were, taking baby steps, watching themselves grow tentatively as one.

The doctor was so lost in thought he didn't understand at first why his steps had led him to the warehouse at the end of the street. They were lucky, so lucky, it was a minuscule town with only a hundred people to move around and they had all ran as soon as _whatever had happened_ had started. No casualties. It was so rare, so precious in their line of work, and yet there was a heavy form inside the warehouse that could only be some kind of a corpse.

Bruce swallowed and walked inside.

 _“Out of sight”_ Clint informed him casually.

The doctor heard the strain in his voice. For a second, he was tempted to rush back into view and climb in his seat next to Clint, closing his eyes as the archer took off and carried them both above the clouds. Bruce had never liked to fly before the archer showed him how.

He shook his head. “I know” he said, low. “But there's something in here.”

 _“Threat ?”_ Thor asked, ready to take off.

“No” he answered, walking further inside. “It's not moving. I think...”

He was more and more certain it was a body he was walking towards – but there was something strange. Something familiar about it. When he finally got close enough to understand what it was, his shoulders slumped and he pinched the bridge of his nose, but a sharp, shaky breath escaped him that he knew everyone had heard on the coms.

 _“Bruce ?”_ Tony asked instantly.

“It's okay – it's...” He sighed. “It's dead, it's really dead.”

The immense corpse was lying down in a puddle of its own dark blood, its eyes rolled upwards to show nothing but protruding whites with burst veins. The skin was grey, spikes up the spine and down the massive shoulders, with something terribly human still lingering on the monstrous form, like a musky smell refusing to wash off.

Had he been willing, like Blonsky before him ? Had he been strapped to table, injected forcefully and left to scream as the radiation turned him inside out ?

 _“Bruce”_ Clint said. _“What is_ it ?”

“It's a gamma experiment” Bruce finally said.

A heavy silence answered him.

 _“Ross”_ Natasha growled.

_“But Ross is dead.”_

Those words still struck Bruce even months after. _Dead._ How could the nightmare of his life, the Ahab to his Moby Dick, vanish so suddenly and in such an unexplained way ? There had been no warnings whatsoever. _Thaddeus Ross was found dead in his office._ And suddenly, one of the heaviest weights on Bruce's shoulders was gone.

Who had done this, and why, he would probably never know. To know _he_ would have been the main suspect if not for the chaos in the Great Basin Desert made it all the more strange. They had been at each other's throats for so long – and suddenly Ross was killed by an outsider ? Fate never played to Bruce Banner's advantage, _ever,_ yet his arch enemy was simply, absurdly, dead, and he was left with a relief and a nasty joy he couldn't manage to be ashamed of.

“I don't know” Bruce said tiredly. “This was probably one of his secluded labs. I always knew he conducted experiments of his own. After his death, the place fell apart.”

“ _So his victim was left to starve”_ Clint said in a low voice. _“No wonder it wreaked havoc all over the place.”_

Bruce could not tell how infinitely grateful he was that the archer had said _victim_ instead of monster, or thing, or test subject.Again, he felt a burst of longing and wished they were flying alone, high above everything, amidst the clear silence of the sky.

Tony cursed. _“There might be others then. And I don't mean just here.”_

 _“They're going to burst in our faces like time bombs”_ Steve approved grimly.

 _“How many labs ?”_ Natasha asked.

“I don't know” Bruce repeated. “We'll have to do some research. But nothing else is moving around here.”

He looked down at the creature which might have been him.

“I think it was just this one.”

He knew they could hear the weariness in his voice.

 _“Bruce, get out of here”_ Clint said anxiously.

 _“Yes, you can come back”_ Steve approved. _“Good job.”_

Bruce nodded and turned away, but after two steps, he looked down at his bloody footprints and realized something he should have seen right away.

Ross's experiment had not died of starvation.

Something had killed him and that something must be still around, for a very simple reason – the blood was fresh under the soles of his shoes. His breath hitched and he looked up, green flaring at the edges of his vision. Anything that had taken down even a failed experiment was not to be underestimated. And it was still here, he just knew it.

“Wait” he said.

He almost heard his teammates freeze on the coms.

_“Bruce ?”_

“Wait” he repeated, turning back. “I think...”

His heart was suddenly pounding. looked at the giant corpse once more. Its huge mass was blocking the view, but it had died facing away from the door, so its killer – whatever it might be – must be on the other side. Bruce slowly began to walk around it, controlling his breath.

 _“Doctor, get out”_ Steve ordered.

“I'm just having a look” Bruce said. “Something killed it and it's still...”

The words died in his throat as he turned round the massive grey head – and saw what was lying behind.

 

 

 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you so much for reading ! I hope you're liking this ; more very soon.


	2. Chapter 2

 

 

 

 

Loki winced slightly and clutched on emptiness against the flat cement floor. In the name of Hel, he had blacked out. At least his surroundings were quiet, eerie with the silence of the dead which he appreciated more than anything right now, since it meant SHIELD was not yet here. He must have been unconscious for only a few seconds.

And he was wasting more of his time uselessly pondering on the floor of a warehouse. He clenched his jaw, tried to push on his arms, but his body was still disobedient and he could do little more than open his eyes.

 

And right there before him was - Bruce Banner.

 

Loki blinked, once, his breathing growing feral but still silent as it curled against the cement.

Banner was staring at him, looking about as thunderstruck as Loki himself was. They just looked at each other in complete amazement for a second.

This was impossible. The Avengers were not supposed to investigate a scene themselves. And the doctor would not have been sent on the field in his human form. Loki had been certain they would never meet again and yet.

Best laid plans of mice and gods.

He tried to move again but only managed to shudder violently. If Banner was here, they all were, Stark, Barton, _Thor._ He was in the doctor's palm. His mind made the connections by itself, but somehow Loki was not thinking really, only looking into Banner's eyes, breathing fast like the trapped animal he was.

 _“Bruce ?”_ chimed his earpiece.

The doctor mechanically raised a hand to his ear.

_“What's going on ?”_

Loki could just stare at him. In a minute from now, he would have regained enough strength to get up. But in a minute from now, it would be too late.

Banner wasn't saying anything though. His eyes had that raw edge the demi-god remembered, slightly softened by a few months of peace but still deeply anchored inside him. Or maybe it was just because he was looking at Loki Laufeyson. None of it mattered anyway. The demi-god held that haunted gaze, daring the doctor to move, to speak, to act against their frozen state.

 _“Bruce !”_ the earpiece insisted.

The spell was broken. Banner licked his lips.

“It's...” he said.

Loki managed to bring his trembling hands on each side of his chest. He wanted to push himself up but the effort made him scowl in pain. He felt like he was breathing stones clacking together in his lungs. He looked at Banner again.

“...nothing” the doctor said.

Loki froze. His muscles did not bear the sudden tension - a burst of pain wracked him and he scowled, but never stopped staring.

“It's nothing” Banner repeated more firmly.

He locked eyes with Loki for another second, like he wanted to say something. The demi-god looked back, breathing deep.

After a moment of hesitation, Banner nodded minutely at him ; then quickly turned away and left.

 

The demi-god finally managed to sit up, then stand in an already swifter movement, the dizziness quickly receding. He granted himself ten seconds to breathe, then finally got a grip on his exhausted body and shoved the pain down his bones.

 

When the SHIELD team busted in fifteen minutes later, he was long gone.

 

*

 

“Bruce !” Clint called, jumping out of the Quinjet to stride towards him.

“You shouldn't be out there” Bruce murmured, although he did nothing to stop the archer from taking him in his arms. “The radiation...”

“Fuck it, the Geiger picked nothing, it's safe” Clint said against his shoulder.

He held him for a few seconds, then pulled back to look at him. “Are you okay ?”

Bruce gave him his wan smile. “I've seen worse.”

“Stop playing tough” the archer grumbled, but let him go nonetheless.

Tony landed smoothly in the middle of the street and walked towards them, his face-plate sliding up.

“You look like shit” he saluted Bruce.

The doctor huffed a little through his nose. “Am I the doctor in this team or not ?”

The billionaire smiled in the corner of his mouth, then said, “We'd better clear off.”

Bruce licked his lips. “What about... what's in the warehouse ?”

“Fury's sending a team to clean it up.”

The doctor nodded. He was not thinking about what had just happened. Not really. It all felt impossibly surreal anyway.

“Bruce” Tony said in a low voice.

Bruce looked up at him. Clint was staring too with shrewd eyes.

“Something wrong ?”

“Nothing” he repeated.

He forced a small smile on his lips. “Let's go.”

 

*

 

The trip back was uneventful. They reached Stark Tower and just scattered without even bidding each other a good night. There was no coldness in it ; only the sense of a familiarity great enough to swallow all minor social customs.

Bruce followed Clint to the elevator and up they went, past the doctor's still empty floor, to the archer's pleasant but still a bit impersonal suite. Bruce did not mind ; he had gotten used not to inhabit a place himself. Sometimes, he wondered whether Clint avoided filling space so they could both feel like they were standing on neutral ground.

Their moods were what colored the room, really. Some days it was warm and loving and they were home and living together. Some days it was more distant, not cold at all but as though Bruce was only staying here as a guest, until his floor was filled with furniture again. Today was one of these days.

And the doctor was glad. He must admit to himself that he had been afraid Clint would cling to him at all times and try to make him feel loved and respected until he had Bruce smothered in kindness. Tony had been a bit like that at first – but he had worked hard to relax around the doctor, bravely facing moments of total awkwardness that Bruce knew were much more painful to him than what he let show. Clint Barton, though, did not try to fight the distance that sometimes settled between them ; as it was, he went to shower alone instead of inviting Bruce to join him. In those moments, the doctor remembered that Hawkeye knew what loneliness was, and knew that it was as necessary to their life as rests in a melody.

The doctor laced his fingers, staring in space, listening to the distant sound of the water running. Loki must have escaped, he thought absently ; or he would have heard of it by now – Fury would not take the risk of hiding him from the Avengers, not after last time. The doctor would still have to hack SHIELD later in the evening to be sure.

He remembered the look on the demi-god's face. He had been at Bruce's mercy and they both knew it. There had been no pleading whatsoever in his eyes, though. He had looked distressed, but his fear only fueled an anger and a defiance that shouldn't have burnt so bright with how exhausted he was. He hadn't changed.

Bruce only realized then that they hadn't exchanged a word and for some reason, it made him feel even wearier. He couldn't even pretend Loki had tricked him again.

The door of the bathroom opened, interrupting his thoughts. Clint got out with a puff of steam, wearing a black t-shirt and slacks, and slumped on the bed next to him. Bruce breathed in the clean, pleasant smell of the bodywash and smiled a little.

The archer raised his hand and tapped the corner of Bruce's mouth in a weird gesture, as though his smile was a glitch he was trying to erase.

“Not fooling me” he said softly.

He smelled really good and radiated a pleasant heat, too. His hair was damp, his terribly scarred shoulders glistening slightly under the dim light. His finger was still on Bruce's lips. The doctor suddenly thought of opening his mouth and sucking the digit in. He thought of getting on his knees for Clint and let him grip his hair to guide him between his thighs. He thought of the words the archer might say, the encouragements he might whisper, the moans he might not hold back.

Then the flaring heat disappeared as soon as it had come, and there was only Loki's memory. But instead of the usual feeling of his long fingers closing on his shoulders, it was his panicked and furious gaze that tore through the doctor's mind. He closed his eyes and hunched on himself.

“Bruce” Clint said in a low voice.

He let his hand slide down until it settled on the doctor's shoulder, without kneading or even pressing, simply staying there.

Bruce breathed in. “It's not... about the gamma experiment” he said.

It was though. To see this greyish hulk had shaken him deeply, stirred up the mud at the bottom of his mind. Now memories of restraints and lab coats and syringes were floating in the dirty water. But this he was used to. This he could deal with.

“I felt sorry for him” he still mumbled. “We don't even know his name and he... nobody deserves that.”

“I know” Clint said in a low voice, just to say something.

“But there's something else and I'm not sure you want to hear it.”

The archer sat cross-legged on the mattress. “I always want to hear” he said in earnest. “Doesn't mean you always have to speak, but still.”

Bruce smiled and said nothing. The archer plopped down on his back, making the mattress bounce slightly under his weight. “At least I'm glad you're trying” he said.

The doctor huffed a sad laugh. There was still unresolved guilt hanging between the Avengers, but their common will to overcome it was growing stronger. Even Tony almost sounded like before, although he was hiding a lot. Still – Bruce's first reflex was always, always to hide.

He knew he only wanted to keep silent in order not to threaten their tentative balance ; but that was precisely what his mistake had been last time. And as they say, _perseverare diabolicum._ Secrecy was a hell of an habit to break, though.

“It – ” he said, throat dry. “There was... something else. Something that killed the gamma-ex."

“What was it ?” Clint murmured.

Bruce stayed silent. The archer's hand brushed his curls. “What, Bruce ?”

“You don't want to hear this” the doctor repeated.

The archer did not deny or insist or did not point out that Bruce was the one who did not want to speak. He let the doctor do these parts himself, waiting silently for the obvious debate to unfold in his head.

Eventually, Bruce closed his eyes and nodded silently. He had to say it. He couldn't see how it could make anything better, he couldn't see how that was a good idea – and _because_ he couldn't see those things he shouldn't trust himself.

He took a deep breath and before he could have second thoughts again, he blurted, “Loki - it was Loki.”

 

 

 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading ! Tell me what you thought. :)


	3. Chapter 3

 

 

 

 

Clint did not stiffen and the doctor was pretty sure he had struggled not to. There was a stunned second of silence. Bruce felt almost sick – oh, he shouldn't have spoken up, he should have said nothing, idiot, idiot, _idiot..._

Then the archer's arms wrapped around Bruce from behind and pressed him to his chest. The doctor just breathed in frozen panic for a minute ; then he opened his eyes and looked timidly at Clint resting his head on his shoulder.

“Bruce” the archer mumbled in the fabric. “Under which fucked-up star were you born ?”

The doctor chuckled, surprising himself. “Sometimes I wonder” he said, then asked, “You're – you're not mad ?”

He instantly regretted the words – childish. They had escaped him ; he tended to be less cautious around himself every time he felt even slightly giddy. Such candid questions were another side effect of the Hulk messing with his social and subconscious barriers, one he had discovered only very recently since it only seemed to happen amidst peaceful times.

Clint shot him a look in the corner of his eyes. “Why would I be mad” he mumbled.

“I said nothing, I let him escape” the doctor murmured, before twisting his mouth in a wry smile. _“Again.”_

“Well” Clint shrugged, “We weren't out there to catch him, you know. Hell, I thought he was back to Narnia by now.”

Bruce couldn't believe it. The archer's voice sounded real though, calm and just a little bit hoarse. “We're grown men, Bruce. We're all doing what we think is right.”

“But – I didn't tell anyone...” Bruce insisted.

“You're telling me now.”

He squeezed his shoulder. “Thanks for that, by the way.”

Bruce chuckled ruefully again. He was aware he was trying to blame himself and aware of Clint's perfect deflections for each of his arguments. Like a twisted game of ping-pong. Most of the time, he felt like only the archer was learning, though.

“Wasn't – wasn't easy” he murmured.

“I bet.”

The archer straightened up against his back to mold their bodies together a bit more comfortably.

“Bruce” he murmured, “Stop freaking out, okay ? Nothing's going to happen to you.”

The doctor nodded hesitantly.

“I'm sorry” Clint said, “but I have to – I have to ask, I can't let you like – if he – ”

He shut up brutally. The doctor closed his eyes and tried to fight against everything in him that claimed that no such concern should ever be directed at him. It wasn't easy either.

“What did he tell you ?” Clint said under his breath. “Bruce, what did he do ?”

He was very stiff and wrapped around Bruce like he tried to shield him with his body. The doctor knew the reason only too well. The Avengers all knew about Loki getting under Bruce's skin, but only Clint knew exactly to what dreadful and literal extent. Another thing Bruce had to struggle not to blame on himself ; another thing that could have eaten him away.

Yet it didn't. Not as much as it should have. Cynical as it was, Loki's letter was the reason he was still there with Clint pressed against his back, instead of locked up alone in the glass cage of the Helicarrier.

And maybe this was why he had let the demi-god vanish today.

“He didn't say anything” he said, relieved not to be lying this time. “The gamma-ex had almost killed him. He was too weak even to move.”

His throat tightened. “And I was just standing there. The way he _looked_ at me.” He swallowed. “I don't want anyone to look at me like this ever again.”

Another thing he had blurted out without thinking. He bit his lip, but it was too late. Clint stayed silent for a long time. Bruce felt a bit dizzy, like he had done something huge.

The archer was still hugging him from behind. He tilted his head ; his breath ghosted over Bruce's skin for a second and then he kissed his neck.

 

_The demi-god leaned in and pressed his lips against his neck..._

 

Bruce jumped and Clint instantly loosened his hold. “Sorry” he said. “I'm sorry.”

The doctor was panting like he was just waking up from a nightmare. “No” he said, holding back Clint's arms sliding away from him. “Don't go.”

The archer hesitated then slowly pressed back. The doctor leaned against him. To feel a weight behind him was better than anything right now. He called forth his brief fantasy from a minute ago – Clint heavy and hot in his mouth, still tasting of soap against his tongue. His hand in Bruce's curls, holding him down.

Tears burned behind his closed eyes. It was not fair. Not fair that they had to wait, for how much longer ?

“Try again” he murmured. “Please.”

The archer did nothing for a long time. Then he leaned in again, and brushed his lips against his neck. Bruce took a deep breath, which turned into a minute moan when Clint gave a chaste but proper kiss, sending tingles along his nerves.

 _It's him,_ the doctor repeated in his mind. _It's him, it's him._

“You alright ?” Clint murmured against his skin.

“Yes” Bruce breathed. “Go on. Please go on.”

Clint kissed his jaw, his cheek, then took his face between his hands and finally found his lips. Bruce willed himself to relax as the archer's tongue slipped inside. To taste someone else was always too real and intimate to fit any previous fantasies. It freaked him out a little and the fact that he hadn't had sex in years, and hadn't had much action even before the accident, was not helping. Alien, too alien, petrifying and invasive and –

The archer stopped again. “Do you want this ?” he said. “Do you really want this ?”

“We've waited for weeks” Bruce mumbled.

He instantly knew it was the wrong thing to say. Clint let go of him.

“Bruce” he said, his eyes dark and serious. “I don't care if we never do _anything._ I'll still stay. I'll only go if _you_ kick me out.”

“This is your room” the doctor objected.

Clint didn't answer and Bruce smiled at his own lame quip. He sought the archer's hand and laced their fingers together. “Please” he said in a subdued voice. “Try again.”

“There's no pressure” Clint said uncertainly.

“There is” Bruce corrected. “Let me deal with it. Okay ?”

The archer looked at him. Bruce almost asked him whether _he_ wanted this, but bit his tongue right in time. He didn't need Clint growing even more angry at him because of how unassuming he was. He was an adult, dammit, not an angsty kid. He had to believe the archer wanted him. He had to believe he was allowed to want him back.

“Okay” Clint murmured, and kissed him again.

It was better this time. Bruce managed not to over-think it and opened himself, tasting him and enjoying his warmth, his hands, his weight. He wrapped his arms around him, gingerly at first, then more strongly, ran his hands over his shoulders and back like he had done in his dreams. He could feel the bumps of the burned, damaged skin where the acid had made it melt. He kneaded the hard muscle underneath, then just pulled the archer close and breathed him in, feeling suddenly a bit dizzy.

When he pulled back, Clint was smiling. He ruffled Bruce's curled hair and kissed the corner of his lips.

Things like _Your smile_ or _I've been so alone_ or _I can't thank you enough_ stumbled in Bruce's throat, but he managed to stop them all before his malfunctioning subconscious made him speak out his mind again. He kissed Clint again to prevent such mishaps, and when the archer surged against him, the atmosphere of the room changed.

“Sorry” Clint panted almost immediately, but Bruce mumbled “No, keep going” he kissed him again, “keep going.”

The archer tugged his shirt out of his trousers, played with the hem for a second, ready to slip his hands beneath, and Bruce's breath hitched because – was that finally it ? Were they actually doing this ?

“Wait” Clint said against his mouth. “Wait.”

They panted together for a second.

“Something wrong ?” Bruce asked eventually.

“I can't” Clint said. “I don't – I'm scared.”

The doctor blinked. Was that not supposed to be the other way around ?

“I'm scared I'll hurt you” the archer murmured.

“You can't hurt me” Bruce replied instantly.

There were worlds of sadness in the archer's smile. “Yeah, Bruce, I can.”

He let go of the hem of his shirt.

“Don't you want this ?” the doctor asked in a pained voice – he knew he had just promised himself _not_ to ask that particular stupid question but, well, there you had it.

“I want this” Clint said in a low rumble that made heat pool in Bruce's groin. “I want to grab your hand and put it some place where you'll see for yourself how _much_ I want this.”

Bruce swallowed, throat dry. The archer looked desperate now. “But I can't” he said. “You see ? I'm scared I'll hurt you. Even if we take it slow, I just... I can't be sure.”

“What you just said” Bruce mumbled. “I'd be. I'd be – fine with that.”

Clint scoffed. “Alright, but I can't just narrate everything I do before...”

His voice trailed off.

He looked Bruce in the eye.

He took the doctor's hand, and put it on his crotch. The doctor closed his eyes and palmed the archer's bulge through his jeans, suddenly dizzy again.

“Going to kiss you” Clint said hoarsely.

Their mouths met, hot and eager and this time the kiss was completely unrestrained. Clint put his hand on Bruce's hand to make him rub his crotch in slow motions.

“I – ” he breathed between two kisses, “I'm going to take off your shirt.”

“Yeah” Bruce said. “I'm gonna take off yours.”

The archer grinned.

“Deal.”

Clint's deft fingers made quick work of the buttons. He then raised his arms to help the doctor peel his black t-shirt off him, discarding it on the floor. The doctor wondered for a second what the archer would think of him, but the sight of Clint's own dense muscles erased all thoughts except for how lucky he was.

“I'm going to touch you” he said, throat dry.

“Not if I touch you first.”

“That's so – ” Bruce closed his eyes when Clint's hands ran over him, “incredibly cheesy – ” he let out an inaudible moan behind his closed lips when the archer began sucking a hickey in his neck.

“Alright ?” Clint asked instantly.

“More than alright” he murmured.

Clint still settled for kissing him instead and Bruce kissed back messily, mumbling warnings whenever he could as he traced Clint's abs and chest and back, wiry muscles flexing under his arms, the slight bumps of old scars.

“ _You_ don't have to narrate” Clint breathed. “It's open bar for you.”

“'M not that rude” Bruce mumbled, and they chuckled together.

“Good, because this 'speaking out' thing, I actually – ” the archer's breath hitched when the doctor palmed him again, more roughly than last time. “ – I think I actually like this a lot.”

Bruce pressed his face against his scarred shoulder.

“I want to...” he mumbled.

“Want to ?”

“Open your jeans.”

“Going to ?” Clint murmured.

The doctor took another second to breathe. “Yeah.”

The sound of the zipper was somehow obscene to his ears, but Clint's weight and warmth when he pushed his hand down to take him in his hand was the best thing he had ever felt. The archer jumped a little and clung to his shoulders with a slight chuckle.

“Hadn't told me _that.”_

“Can't spoil everything.”

“Can I do the same ?”

Bruce paused for a second.

“Yeah” he said in a low voice. “Slow. Please.”

 

*

 

In a hotel miles and miles away, Loki cut off the water. He stayed inside the shower, pressed against the misted tiles.

Blood and dirt were being washed away in the drain. He stared at it absently. His pale skin was marred with huge bruises, black and blue. Those he had not had the strength to heal after knitting the broken bones and growing himself a new spleen. His body had really been pushed almost beyond its limits this time.

Reddish drops kept gliding down his black hair. He closed his eyes and rubbed his forehead. Even the slight movement made him wince. He was battered and drained beyond measure, yet the true ordeal came from the inside. Banner's gaze stabbed through his memories and printed itself everywhere he looked in persistence of vision.

_Go away._

He scowled, then thumped the back of his head against the cooling wall and wished he had something to wish for.

 

 

 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading, as always. I still enjoy each and everyone of your comments, and they are still amazingly useful to me. ^^


	4. Chapter 4

 

 

 

 

 

Bruce couldn't help closing his eyes when Clint very gently flicked the button of his pants open ; the archer nibbled his ear as he pushed his hand down where it was warm. “Going commando, uh ?” he said in his ear with a small laugh.

“The Hulk” Bruce mumbled, a bit sheepish, but Clint said “I _love_ it” and kissed him, wet and warm and messy, and Bruce felt himself come alive in his hand.

He jumped and grabbed Clint's wrists.

“Wait” he said, trembling. “Wait.”

The archer stopped immediately, freezing like a statue. Bruce tried to will the memories away. He had been so desperate then, so absolutely hopeless that even Clint's touch awoke only poison in him.

_You are nothing. There is only me._

He screwed his eyes shut.

_And who else would want to touch you after what you've done ?_

“Bruce” Clint murmured in a cracked voice, letting go of him completely. “Hey. Bruce. What can I do ?”

“Keep talking” Bruce gasped. “Tell me it's you. Tell me it's fine.”

“It's me” the archer said. “It's fine.”

The doctor chuckled wanly and Clint went on, “Whatever we do here, it won't hurt anyone. Not even you. Never you. It's just us, alright ? Just us having fun.” He scooted closer and framed his face. “I want you to feel good. And if you must cry, I want it to be because it's so fucking good you're sobbing for more.”

“Think you can make me, Barton ?” Bruce murmured with a small smile.

The pathetic joke had been very demanding, but he felt better saying it and even better hearing Clint's slight laugh. “I'm sure as hell gonna try. If you let me. If that's okay.”

“That's okay” Bruce said in a sigh.

“I want to kiss you” Clint murmured. “Is that okay ?”

 _“That's_ always okay, Clint.”

“I'm going to kiss you.”

“That's _really_ okay – ”

“I'm going to kiss you down there.”

Clint's hand settled between Bruce's legs again and the doctor froze. He looked up and met the archer's deadly serious gaze.

“Is _that_ okay ?” the archer whispered.

Bruce licked his lips, tried to trigger himself, called forth memories of the desert and the Milky Way out the window as Loki pressed him against the wall. But they vanished in the warmth of the present, and he felt nothing if for the desperate approval of his starved body.

“Yeah” he said in a small voice.

“Doesn't sound like it.”

Bruce took a deep breath. “Yes” he said with more strength.

Clint slid down the bed and settled between Bruce's legs – then stopped, as though on second thought. “Still not buying it.”

“Yes” the doctor said, with the slightest hint of a smile. “Please. I – I want you to.”

“I'm going to take off your pants” Clint warned.

Bruce said nothing and just lifted his hips off the mattress. The archer tugged his pants down, shifted closer and gripped his hard shaft with calloused fingers. The doctor moaned and his fingers dug in the sheets.

“Alright ?” Clint asked, freezing again.

“Yeah” Bruce panted.

“Because – when you moan like this, you, you sound like you're in pain.”

“I'm fine” the doctor said. “I'm really fine.” He sighed and it did sound like he was hurting. “It's been so long.”

“I'm bracing on your thigh.”

“Okay.”

“I'm going to take you in my mouth” he murmured.

“Yes – yes, okay.”

“I'm doing it, Bruce. It's happening.”

“Yes” the doctor breathed, “Go on.”

“No” Clint said.

Bruce reopened his eyes. He hadn't even realized he had closed them. The archer had a somehow sad half-smile, his thumb rubbing the sensitive skin of his burning length. “You're being _okay_ with it.”

“I _am_ okay with it” the doctor protested.

“But I want more than okay”Clint murmured.

His breath ghosted over Bruce's shaft. “I want _more_ than okay.”

“Please... ” the doctor began without thinking.

“No” Clint cut off again. “No, I don't mean begging.”

He kissed the head, carefully, and Bruce honestly thought the room had swayed around them.

“I want you to give the order.”

He looked up. “Is that okay ?”

The doctor licked his lips and tried to make a joke but nothing came. “Yes, I – ” he stammered, “I think. I think it's... okay.”

“On your mark then.”

Bruce swallowed thickly.

“Do it” he murmured in a hoarse voice.

“Do what ?”

The doctor almost whined. “Clint – ”

 _“Order_ me” the archer breathed.

“God – just” he bit his lip, “ – _suck me off.”_

Clint swallowed him so entirely and eagerly Bruce didn't even have the time to be embarrassed of how ridiculous he had just sounded. He let out a loud moan.

“It's okay” he added instantly – he was afraid Clint would stop, he really _did_ sound like he was in pain, but he wasn't and he wasn't just _okay_ either – “I mean I'm... fine. It's perfect. It's...” He tilted his head back. “...amazing...”

Clint Barton. Between _his_ legs, focused on nothing but giving _him_ pleasure. It was almost obscene, almost filthy, almost too much to process but luckily, the archer was so good at this that Bruce had a hard time stringing two thoughts together anyway.

He realized Clint must have done this before, _for the job,_ must have done this to people who thought he was someone else. His fists clenched around the sheets at the thought of the archer forced to get on his knees for SHIELD, but he was overthinking it again, his mind was wandering and inventing itself dark places ; there was no hesitation in Clint's movements, none other than the minute flinches triggered by his worry for Bruce. And the doctor was fine. He was so very very _fine..._

Then he felt himself on the verge of coming – and his eyes snapped open as cold panic burst through him. Suddenly he could see only the blue of blue eyes too close from him and it was all rushing back. How vulnerable – how _naked_ he had felt.

A small, nasty laugh. _Now you will sleep._

 _Not now, not so close,_ he thought desperately – but he felt like throwing up now. Suddenly, Clint's touch was nothing but repulsive, made him feel raw and small and humiliated. He panted a sob, gasped at a flick of Clint's tongue and wondered in panic why he wasn't stopping, but of course his every noise sounded like pain, so the archer would ignore him.

He opened his mouth, tried to tell him to stop, but his own stubbornness shut him up before he could speak – no, no, _no,_ it was so _fucking unfair._ They had waited for so long to get there. He fought back his tears and forced himself to fight it. He wouldn't ruin it. Not this time. He forced himself to think of Loki – to face everything he knew of him.

There wasn't just that cold moment of horror in the base. He thought of the tortured figure on a steel table. Of the frail silhouette breathing the night air for the first time after two months. Of the panic in Loki's voice, _don't do this,_ just before the coms dissolved in acid. Of his letter. Apologies and thanks had to count for something.

And only this morning, Bruce remembered, Loki's broken form on the floor of the warehouse, too hatefully proud to beg for his life – but scared, so deeply scared inside. There was more to him than a monster. Therefore more to Bruce than a victim.

The archer increased his rhythm and Bruce forgot about Loki then. He thought of Clint's voice. _It's not hurting anyone, not even you,_ so yes, yes, maybe he could do this, “Go on” he murmured, he was crying silently but he could do this – he suddenly gripped the sheets and moaned _“Ah,_ Clint, _fu – ”_ he should really warn him _now_ and gasped, “Clint, Clint I'm going to – ”

It rushed through his entire body and pulsed out of him in an almost painful wave, pushing more tears out of his eyes. Clint took it all and Bruce had honestly no idea what was okay, to let him swallow or not, but Clint had obviously no problem with it and if he hadn't, then Bruce must enjoy it too, enjoy the lingering warmth and the feeling of being sucked dry. The pleasure he felt was not entirely his – mixed with panic and nauseating shame. But it was there.

“God” he panted when it was over. _“God.”_

His tears were rolling down freely now. He felt wrung out and very dizzy, shivering like a leaf in the wind. This time, Clint heard him ; he wiped his mouth, looked up in worry – and paled when he saw Bruce crying.

He would have stepped back in horror if not for the doctor grabbing him to press them together. His solidity was just what Bruce needed in his wavering world.

“Stay” he mumbled, huddled against him. “Please stay."

“Bruce” the archer said miserably, trying to hold him and give him some space at the same time, “Bruce – my God – did I – ? Are you – ?”

The doctor nodded mutely, panting as he wiped his tears. “It was...”

“What ? Bruce – please, talk to me, _Bruce.”_

The doctor looked up and quirked a smile.

“It was... okay.”

The color of Clint's face changed brutally.

 _“Okay”_ he hissed. “You little piece of shit.”

Bruce began to laugh and only laughed more as Clint went on indignantly, 'okay ? _okay ?_ I've never been so insulted in my _life !_ People could _kill_ for a piece of that ass and you, you ungrateful sassy little' then dropped it and just held on to Bruce's shoulders and burst out laughing too. And they laughed together until it hurt, because they were relieved and happy and giddy and they had both been so scared.

“I didn't think I could – ” Bruce mumbled drowsily, his mouth running wild again, “I almost stopped you.”

“You should have” Clint said instantly. “You should – ”

“No, no, it was good. I'm... I'm glad.” He tightened his embrace. “I'm so glad” he sighed.

They stayed like this for a long time until Bruce realized Clint was still wearing his unzipped jeans. “Um” he said shyly. “Do – would you like – ”

“No” the archer said firmly, kissing him to soothe the final tone of his voice. “Not tonight.”

“Are you sure it's – ” Bruce began, then snapped his mouth shut when he realized his mistake, but too late – Clint was already grinning so widely his face could have split in half.

“Oh, Brucie” he said, “of course it's _okay”_ and they began laughing again like two idiots until they just collapsed on the bed.

They somehow managed to wiggle under the covers and Bruce rested on Clint's chest as usual, their hands lacing together on the pillow.

“Thanks” he sighed after a long time.

His heart was still clenching and he hadn't entirely stopped shaking. But he felt safe now under the covers. The horrible feeling of his vulnerability had deserted him, leaving only the furnace of Clint's body. The archer played with their entwined fingers for a minute.

“I don't like you thanking me for that” he said in a low voice.

He pulled him close. “But I get it. I get it.”

Bruce closed his eyes and let himself exist, let himself simply be there on Clint's beating heart.

 

 

In the middle of the night, he woke up without knowing why. His mind had the strange detached clarity of the dark hours.

Loki was lying in a puddle of blood, staring at him like a wounded animal, his lips curled up in a silent snarl.

 

He knew it was a dream, but his mind was wide awake. The memory glowed like a ghost. Loki's chest was heaving, his eyes wide and astonished, terrified and furious.

What was he _doing_ there ?

Bruce should have thought of it before. It couldn't be a coincidence. He had been too shocked at the moment, but Loki was still on Earth and – hiding to destroy gamma tech ? How did _that_ make sense ? The demi-god was certainly not one to work in the shade. And not one to meddle in such very Midgardian affairs. Seriously, nothing linked him to it.

Except –

 

And Bruce got it.

 

It was so illogical. It was also so very obvious.

 

“It's him” he murmured, eyes wide.

 

“Him what ?” Clint said, in such a low voice Bruce could have imagined it.

He felt like he was hung up between two layers of dreams. It was surreal. Loki's blue eyes still burning in his mind.

“It's him who killed Ross” he breathed.

Something seized him and constricted his throat until tears were squeezed out. It was too vertiginous and he closed his eyes not to fall into the abyss.

 _“Bruce...”_ the archer said under his breath, but the doctor shook his head.

“No” he mumbled. “Not now.”

Clint understood and held him. Bruce closed his eyes again. Tomorrow when it would be a little less warm and a little more real, he would try and process it all. Tomorrow he would ask himself what it could possibly mean and what he should be feeling.

But tomorrow.

 

*

 

Loki shook himself out of his haze.

The small bathroom was freezing. He must have stayed there staring at the wall for hours. He shuddered and got up. There was still blood in the drain but he would wash it away later ; for now, he just wanted to get out.

The main room was only a bit less cold. A shiver rippled through him again ; but he was still too drained even to invoke casual clothes. He sighed silently and grabbed one of the hotel robes.

As he dressed himself, someone knocked at the door. He paused, various scenarios running through his mind – more or less unlikely – but he might as well answer instead of wondering in vain. He was too tired anyway to think of a different plan.

He put away the documents and maps he had stolen from Ross's office, then closed the lapels of his robe and went to the door, readying himself for a fight.

He opened it brutally – on a very young girl with strawberry blonde hair.

Loki blinked at her.

“Hi” she said. “Room service. Here's your tea.”

“I... did not order any” he answered in a very doubtful tone.

If that was a trick, it was exceptionally poor. She blinked, stared at the number on the door, then back at him in panic. “Oh – oh my God, it's the wrong floor. I'm so sorry. You know what – keep it. It's very good tea, I'll just – go get another one, I guess. So sorry for disturbing you. Good night, sir. Sorry.”

“I do not – ” Loki began, but she was already gone.

He stared at the platter, then rolled it inside and shut the door with irritation. What in Hel was this ? Certainly not SHIELD. Even their agents were better than this clumsy kid. He should have killed her, if only for using a ploy so pathetic it ridiculed her and him both. Who could it be – Ross's partisans ?

Even with his last breath, he would have been strong enough for a mere revelation spell. He waved his hand over the teapot and waited for poison to bubble on the surface. Nothing happened. Loki frowned and cast a different spell, then another, and another.

Eventually though, he had to face the obvious fact than the liquid was, in fact, tea, and that the girl was just a girl.

He stared at the teapot for another minute.

 

It _was_ good, he admitted to himself absently a minute later. And the heat was very welcome. Going back to his desk, he reopened the drawer and unfolded the map to stare at it glumly. The labs he had circled and the ones he had already crossed. He ran a hand over his face.

_What am I doing._

He should simply stop. As long as nobody knew, he could do what he wanted. But Banner wasn't an idiot. He wouldn't be long to understand. The demi-god remembered his raw eyes and his small nod of acknowledgment. Not even a word, just – this second of stillness, then a nod and he was gone. Sparing _him._ Who spared people nowadays ?

Loki winced and finished his cup. As he swallowed slowly, the dull heat pooled inside his empty stomach again and he grew aware of how quiet his surroundings were. How dim the light and how sore his limbs.

He folded the map and tucked it away, then set his cup down and opened his robe to let it fall on the floor. The unmade bed was waiting for him ; he buried himself under the heavy covers and closed his eyes. He still had to decide what to do next and how to feel. Tomorrow when he would be a little more warm and a little less tired, he would try and process it all. 

But tomorrow.

 

Tomorrow.

 

 

 

 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And it's already over... I know it was short and relatively uneventful (I only called it sequel because it's about what happens after HTC, but it's really a companion piece) but I would still be very interested to know what you thought :) Thank you so much for reading !


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